


Breathless

by sammyspreadyourwings



Series: Queen Prompts [25]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Anaphylaxis, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Procedures, Non-Consensual Drug Use, nothing happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: Someone slips something into Brian's drink, turns out he's allergic to it.





	Breathless

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt transfer. Enjoy!

The night ending in the hospital isn’t the way Brian had thought the night would go. It certainly was in the list of ways the night could end up, but he assumed it would be alcohol poisoning or an injury relating to drunken mishaps. He didn’t consider that it would be himself or that he would be waking up with an oxygen mask covering his mouth.

A nurse gives him a warm smile, “I’m going to get the doctor.”

She steps out of the room. He glances around the room, surprised to find that he was alone. Brian figured that at least one of his friends would be in the room with him. Truthfully, he doesn’t know why he’s in the hospital.

“Mr. May, happy to see you’re awake!”

He blinks up at the young doctor, she’s wearing a friendly smile, “I hope you’re comfortable as can be, I’m Doctor Branson.”

His throat feels scratchy and swollen while his muscles feel tight enough to tear. He raises an eyebrow not trusting his voice to work or work well.

“I’m sure you’re overwhelmed,” Doctor Branson says, “but we were able to reverse the anaphylaxis.”

_What?_ He makes a noise of confusion.

“You don’t remember?”

Brian shakes his head, careful to not dislodge the mask.

Doctor Branson’s smile falls. Brian feels dread settle in his stomach.

“Well, from my understanding of the story your friends told and your bloodwork, it appears that someone slipped something into your drink. Whichever drug it was, you’re severely allergic to it.”

His symptoms make sense now, but not why he was alone. He gestures towards the oxygen mask, hoping that with it off he’ll regain some moisture in his throat.

“O2 levels are still lower than I would like. We’ll check again in an hour.”

Brian isn't exactly thrilled at the implication that he’s going to be here for more than an hour.

“With your permission, I’d like to allow your friends in the room, I don’t think the tile can take much more pacing.”

He inclines his head but frowns in confusion.

“We wanted to keep them out until you were stable. The blond one was already incredibly distraught. He knew your throat was completely closed.”

Brian makes a soft wounded noise. He wants to see Roger and comfort him. Vague memories of someone pawing at his throat trickle through his head.

“He saved your life. He was able to keep your airway open long enough for EMTs to reach you and intubate. They were quite adamant about not having tracheal intubation.”

He wants to tell her that it was because it would end his career at singing. A guitarist he may be, but Queen needs his voice as well. It also sounds like he came very close to dying. Brian is suddenly very glad for the mask on his face. The guilt presses against his lungs, he had never wanted to scare his friends like that, no matter how out of his control it had been.

“I’ll get them.”

Brian closes his eyes for a few minutes. He hears the door slide open and his eyes open in surprise. He sees Roger and Freddie tripping over themselves to be the first ones in the room. John for his part squeezes through a gap left by the two squabbling men.

“How are you feeling?” John asks.

He raises a hand and shakes it in a so-so gesture. Brian wishes he could use his voice to reassure his friends that he was fine, but he can feel the daggers pressing in his throat and he’s not too curious to find out what it would feel like to speak. Roger and Freddie untangle themselves. Roger’s entire frame is bent with stress and his eyes brightened by tearstains. Brian fights back noise of concern.

Roger crying is the worst thing in the world. It’s worse because it’s his fault.

A look passes between them, and Roger comes to grab his hand still raised from his answer to John. Brian lets Roger play with his hand. Freddie perches on the end of the bed and John leans against the bed.

The fact that they aren’t talking is more telling than anything. Brian has a feeling that they’re going to be hovering over him for the next few weeks.

An hour later Doctor Branson comes to check his vitals, “we can switch to the cannula now. Your vitals are improving but not as fast as I would like.”

The mask is replaced quickly. He’s given a cup of ice chips; the cool water is a relief. Slowly he makes his way through the cup and he feels some of the pain start to calm down. While he’s sucking on the ice, Freddie and John move over to the side of the room and curl up together.

It’s only a few minutes before they’re both asleep. Brian is too uncomfortable to sleep, and he assumes that Freddie and John are both still drunk enough that it doesn’t matter what position they fall asleep in. Roger doesn’t seem to be inclined to move.

“Roger,” he calls softly.

The blond hair whips up, “Brian.”

“I’m okay.”

“I know,” Roger looks away, “but you almost weren’t.”

“I am, though.”

Roger shakes his head, “I should have paid more attention to our drinks.”

“Not your fault.”

He sees Roger fold into himself. Brian hates it. There’s so much he wants to say, but even the small exchange has left his throat raw and undid the soothing work of the ice chips. Instead of more comforting words, he scoots over and opens his arms. Roger climbs into the bed and curls against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Roger repeats.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Brian says.

He knows Roger is going to blame himself for a time. Brian would be thinking the same exact thing. Instead, he wraps his arms around Roger, he feels the slight form tremble. Roger hugs him tightly.

It’s a shame that he can’t say more to comfort Roger. But now that he has his love in his arms and his friends in the room, he can fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> As always leave your thoughts and comments below or come talk to me on tumblr.


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